


An Unexpected Offer

by Nordic_Breeze



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Awkward Sexual Situations, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Flirting, Happy Ending, Light Dom/sub, POV First Person, Prostitution, Prostitution Roleplay, Seduction, Sex for Money, Smut, Sub Arthur Morgan, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, but not really, but not the reader, dominant female, i guess, no money is ever actually exchanged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 16:46:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17964305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nordic_Breeze/pseuds/Nordic_Breeze
Summary: A mundane trip to Rhodes for the weekly grocery shopping has an unexpected twist in store for Arthur and the reader.





	An Unexpected Offer

**Author's Note:**

> Originally an Arthur/OC fic. I changed it to a xReader! format but I kept the first person POV as that fits my writing style so much better. I simply cannot do 'you'-form well. First attempt at writing explicit smut.

“There! That should be it.”

Arthur Morgan huffed with a slight strain in his voice as he tossed the last sack onto the buckboard. I helped him hook up the wooden barrier. I still couldn’t believe I was really here, in Rhodes, doing the weekly grocery shopping with Mr. Morgan. It had been his turn this time and I’d somehow managed to talk him into taking me with him.

_Listen, missy. Out there be bounty hunters, lawmen, Lemoyne Raiders and other outlaws…_

_But you took Sadie with you last time._

_Mhpf._

He’d eventually agreed, albeit reluctantly. As much as I loved spending time with Tilly, Mary-Beth, Karen, Lenny and Jack, I’d been stuck at Clemens Point for weeks and I was in serious need of a change of scenery and a much-needed break from Miss Grimshaw’s incessant commands. Don’t get me wrong, she’s not a bad person and by all means, keeping the camp tidy and clean indisputably requires determination and dedication, but her demeanor could be a bit too much at times.

“Hey, what do you say we get something to eat over at the Parlour?” I suggested, not quite ready to return to the camp just yet. Besides, despite his short temper and coarse persona, I enjoyed Mr. Morgan’s company – and quite a bit too, if I were to be honest.

I guess he did not share my sentiment. My companion glared at me under his hallmark black leather hat. He didn’t say anything. His eyes did all the talking. _Did you forget everything I said earlier?_

I wasn’t about to give up that easily. “I don’t know about you, but I am in serious need for something that’s not one of Pearson’s stews – not that it’s anything wrong with Mr. Pearson’s cooking,” I raised my arms defensively, “but his stews all pretty much taste the same and since we’re already here…”

I gestured towards the Parlour House across the street and to the right. Mr. Morgan half-turned his head in the same direction. A slight pull at the corner of his mouth denoted he was considering my proposal. I knew he appreciated Pearson’s effort to feed us as much as any of the veteran van der Lindes, but the twinkle in his eyes when I’d mentioned the stews told me he didn’t exactly disagree. Not that it mattered much. He wasn’t exactly a picky eater. I reached into my hand-made satchel and pulled out a couple of dollars. Thanks to finding a washed-up chest on the beach near camp during a morning walk with Tilly last week, likely from that boat that had capsized a couple of days earlier, money was, for the moment, not an issue. An unfamiliar, but welcoming change. Even after donating our share to the box outside Dutch’s tent, there was still a handsome amount for the both of us. And now, I was about to put it to good use.

“My treat. Whaddaya say?”

Mr. Morgan let out a chortle and adjusted the brim of his hat. He was not the one to turn down a free meal. “Okay, Miss,” he agreed, pulling at the tarpaulin to cover our newly bought provisions. “But you’re buying me beer too.”

“Deal.”

I smacked my palm with the dollar bills and steered us towards the Parlour, hiding my smirk behind tresses drooping from my messy bun. From the corner of my eye, I noticed my travelling partner cooking an overbearing, but amused smile.

“You’re in an awful good mood today,” he commented.

“Oh, being in a good mood is awful, eh?” I teased. Mr. Morgan let out a sound that was a strange combination of amusement and annoyance.

“I guess finding a pile of money just lying there waiting to be found does that to ya.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t talk about that too loud.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” I admitted. Truth be told, I wasn’t much of an outlaw. A dire situation and lack of alternatives had me join the van der Linde gang a few months ago. I helped out in the camp, and scrounged shacks and abandoned buildings for supplies whenever I could. I knew how to handle a gun and, thanks to Charles, the bow as well but I couldn’t bring myself to rob or steal. I’d never give any of the van der Linde’s up to the law, - except for maybe Micah. They’d saved my life after all, but I also knew I could never live like this. Not in the long run. I’d sworn I’d leave someday. Yet, now that I finally had more than enough money to start anew somewhere else, I couldn’t even think about leaving Tilly, Mary-Beth, Abigail and Jack, Sadie, Karen, Dutch, Kieran, Charles, Lenny, Hosea, the man walking next to me, - my heart started hammering really hard against my ribs. They weren’t perfect, true, but there was no denying I’d gotten fond of them.

“There be Lemoyne Raiders around and Dutch has told us to keep a low profile so don’t draw attention, okay?”

Mr. Morgan’s gruff voice startled me and ripped me out of my train of thoughts as we approached the saloon entrance.

“Right on Sir,” I affirmed.

I had expected to eat in silence but to my surprise, my companion talked enough to keep a casual conversation somewhat going, asking me about my past life, which led to me talking about my passion for books. After our meal, I made my way to the counter to help myself to a fistful of nuts as Mr. Morgan made his way to the door. A working girl entered as he was about to leave, and wasted no time asking if he was in want of a friendly smile for the night. Was it that late already? I guess we’d been sitting for longer than I’d thought. I was a few steps away but close enough to eavesdrop on the conversation. To my relief, Mr. Morgan politely declined. Why did I feel relieved? What did I care if Arthur Morgan was to buy himself company for the night? It surely wasn’t any of my business. The lady did not seem to take no for an answer and my fellow van der Linde declined a second time. I slowly made my way towards the door, unsure whether to infer or not. It may not be any of my business, but we had arrived together and if he suddenly decided to stay behind…

“You know what, you should be paying _me_!” he retorted in a tone filled with mockery.

“Oh you…!”

“Eh, honey. I think it’s time we go,” I inferred, just barely saving Mr. Morgan from a slap in the face.

“Oh, I didn’t know… why didn’t you tell me you was married?”

“I…”

“Let’s go, _sweetheart_.” I locked eyes with my fake husband. _Don’t draw attention, remember._

“Um, thanks,” a visibly aggravated Mr. Morgan grunted once we were out on the street. The sun was still up, but it was getting chilly.

“ _You should be paying me_? Really?” I mock-confronted as I shared my handful of nuts.

Morgan shrugged. “Lady wouldn’t take no for an answer,” he mumbled between chews.

I chuckled. “So, would you have?”

“Would I have what?”

“If a woman was willing to pay you for, you know, would you?”

I had no idea why I’d asked such a delicate question so bluntly. I had the habit of talking before thinking when excited, aggravated or agitated. Not my most charming side, I had to admit.

Mr. Morgan let out a dry laugh. “You really think anyone would be willing to pay for _me?!_ ”

“Okay but hypothetically, if someone was, would you?”

The man sauntering next to me lowered his head, the ever-present, wide-brim hat covering most of his face. We reached our carriage and he went to get the bridles.

“Hop on, we should get back while sun’s still up.”

I don’t know why. But I decided to make it my mission to find out just how eager Mr. Morgan was to make money. I retrieved a few dollar bills from my satchel. _How does that song go again, a dollar each and three for two…_ Heart thumping, I poked his arm and waited till I had his absolute attention. Then I held up the bills in front of a befuddled Mr. Morgan.

“Five.”

“Excuse me, what?!”

A quick glance around to make sure no one was in hearing-range, I locked my eyes with his frowning green, making sure he took note of the money in my hand.

“Five dollars for your, eh, companionship. Services. Or, whatever. What do you say?”

A flare of self-conscious, _what-the-hell-are-you-doing?_ dread had me almost joking it away before I made an absolute fool out of myself. The pounding in my chest intensified and I could feel my cheeks tingle. I was undoubtedly visibly flustered. From embarrassment? Anticipation?

For half a second, his face displayed disbelief, then it shifted to mild annoyance.

“You gotta be joking.”

“I’m dead serious.”

The staring contest ensued. “Why?” he challenged.

“Because I dare you.”

Not really an answer, I know. But truth be told, I didn’t really have one either.

“I double dare you,” I challenged back, closing in the distance between us. “Ten dollars.”

“Lady, you’ve lost your damn mind.”

“Fifteen. And my name is <y/n>, not _lady_.”

This was absolute insanity but for once in my life I could use this kind of money without thinking. And as much as I was indeed embarrassing myself, I also found the whole situation, in all its absurdity, very amusing. It would make for one hell of a story to tell. Someday.

“Twenty dollars! And I’ll pay for the room.”

_Okay, what the hell am I doing here?_

“Get on,” he growled in that infamous _I’m-not-in-the-mood_ tone of his that could make even the biggest fellar in town tremble. I trembled too but for what reason I wasn’t entirely sure. I decided however, enough was enough, stuffed the money back in my satchel and rounded the carriage to ascend on the other side, mentally preparing for an awkward ride back home.

“Wait.”

I spun around, a little too fast to be as nonchalant as I wanted to appear.

“You’d really pay twenty dollars? For me? _Twenty_ dollars. _Me_?”

“Yes,” I responded innocently, straining to keep my expression neutral.

I could hear blood rushing in my ears and my knees were about to give in. My cheeks were burning and I struggled to breathe like a normal person. I was determined to not let it show. Too much.

“Why?” He was still radiating bewilderment and disbelief. “To prove some damn point?”

I shrugged. My intentions were not relevant. I crossed my arms, straightened my back, cooked a half-grin and arched a brow. In all my years, I had never felt such a rush of pure, delightful exhilaration.

“You know I’m good for it. Yes or no, Mr. Morgan?”

I could practically hear the gears in his head turning. What he was thinking, I had no idea. Was he really considering it? Would _I_ go through with it? Surely, I couldn’t…?

The throbbing in my chest spread lower, to my abdomen - gradually moving south. The mere sensation made my cheeks go warm - again. _Stop it!_

“Okay,” he agreed, hitching the horses. “Not gonna pass on easy twenty dollars or I’d be a damn fool.”

“It sure is easy money,” I chirped in a tone slightly too high. That seemed to amuse him.

“Sure is.”

A mischievous twinkle in his eyes meant he didn’t really think I’d go through with it. He’d agreed merely to see how far I’d go before inevitably backing out. Fine. I can play that game too.

“Okay then,” I affirmed, gesturing to the Parlour we’d recently exited, closing the deal.

“Oookay,” he leisurely echoed. Neither of us made any attempt to move. My companion mimicked my gesture. “After you.”

“One more thing…”

I narrowed the distance between us again, my face a mere inch from his. My eyes tracing his features, as if seeing him for the first time. Striking bluish-green eyes, all too often hidden under a broad-brim hat to conceal their sadness when he let go of his tough-guy act. A nose that looked like it had been broken at least twice. A pronounced jawline that despite being covered in a three-day stubble did little to hide the scars on his chin. Not that it did anything to make him any less attractive, quite the contrary. His mouth, full lips, now all of a sudden so very kissable.

“Um, I apologize for being so direct, but-”

He let out a dry, humorless laugh. As soon as the words had left my mouth, I realized the irony in my statement.

“Um, it’s just that…” I continued, refusing to falter. “Twenty dollars’ a lot of money and I just want to make sure that, eh,” twiddling my fingers, my mind scrambled for a suitable euphemism. Arthur’s stare made my cheeks feel like they were on fire. I was grateful dusk was settling in.

“Um, are you sure that you can- will be able to, you know, perform?”

He knew exactly what I meant to ask even before uttering the last word. He hesitated for a second, deciding whether to keep up the act or drop his game-face.

“That won’t be a problem,” he affirmed, cooking a smile, as if to teach me a lesson. _Don’t you dare mess with Arthur Morgan._

“Great,” I chirped. “Let’s go then.”

My steps as fast as my heartbeat, I made my way the short distance back to the Parlour in record time. I expected Arthur to shout at me to stop this charade but he followed about one step behind, occasionally shaking his head as I entered the establishment, rented a room for the hour, made my way around the corner and opened the door to my newly booked accommodation, eye-stalked by the bartender and a couple of guests that had overheard our conversation.

I looked around the room to the sound of Arthur’s steps behind me. He came to a halt just inside the entrance. The lodging was plain and comfortable. Not super private but it would do just fine. I closed the curtains before turning to my companion. His jaw was tense and even with his hat obscuring the upper half of his face I could feel his eyes scrutinizing me.

“Um, you might wanna close the door.”

He did as I said, visibly surprised at my request. I twiddled my fingers.

“So, how do we do this?

He threw up his hands. “Lady, it’s your show.”

Okay. Fine. _This is it._ Either go through with it, or end it now. _Fuck it._ I lowered my forehead and locked my gaze with his.

“I told you, my name is <y/n>.”

“I kno-“

I approached him in three firm steps and before he could finish his sentence, I pushed him against the wall with full force. With a swift motion, I removed his hat and put it on my head, grabbed a hold of the lapels of his shirt and pulled down hard until he was within kissing-range. His body gave off an instantaneous jolt as I closed my lips over his. I used my right arm and hip to pin him against the wall, my left palm pressing against the wall a few inches from his head. He remained still, making no attempt to move or push me away as I continued peppering the corners of his mouth with feather-light kisses, all while keeping him pinned between me and the wall, but also making sure he could easily move away if he wanted to.

I backed away slightly and removed my lips from his, lingering a mere half an inch from his face. I could feel his warm breath on my flushing skin and the taste of him on my tongue, a faint hint of tobacco and beer. We stood still for a moment, wordlessly assessing the situation. My right hand resting on his chest, my left still lingering on the wall, his arms hanging to his sides. When I was sure he knew I was serious, I raised my chin to give him yet another soft kiss. He stayed still, but miniscule, involuntary jolts revealed the effect my body brushing against his had on him. My fingers glided over his chest and up to his shoulder and neck as I playfully nibbled on his lips. Slowly. Gently. I could feel him relaxing under my touch, his arms twitching, stopping mid-air, a moment of hesitation before gently but decisively embracing me.

I moved my hand from his shoulder and closed my palm around his jaw. My other hand gripped his neck, and I entwined my fingers in his hair. I used my thumb to gently push at his chin, coaxing him to open his mouth. He obeyed and we engaged in a heated kiss as I started unbuttoning his shirt. His hands moved to my blouse by instinct but then he stalled, awaiting permission. This was, my show after all. I started ripping at my clothes, feeling impatient all of a sudden as heat and anticipation was building up.

“<y/n>, are you sure about-“

“Yes!” I assured, cutting him off, my voice teeming with want. _Hell yes._

“Touch me,” I breathed into his mouth, placing his hands where I wanted them. “Yeah, that’s it.”

His hands brushed over my now naked body, trailing every curve, valley and dimple as he kissed his way down my jaw and neck, his thick, full lips finding their way to my shoulder, my collarbone, my chest. Overwhelmed by pleasure, I started letting out pleading gasps. It seemed to encourage him. His grip hardened, his kisses grew more intense, his touch more daring. I instinctively grinded my hips against his, feeling the bulge between his legs. He would certainly not have any trouble _performing_.

His hand caressed the inside of my tight, coming to rest just as his fingertips brushed against my entrance, waves of want raging through me. He continued the tantalizing tease a few more seconds, his fingers gliding over, around and barely inside my entrance, just out of reach of where I wanted him the most. It was torturous but oh-so-good at the same time, amazing and agonizing all at once.

“Please,” I groaned. “I need-“

My plead morphed into a moan as he slipped a finger inside of me. Slowly. Then another.

“You gettin’ value for your moneh?” he breathed against my ear. Sweet, tantalizing shivers spread from my core at the sound of his deep, gruff voice and from his fingers exploring the soft, moist and oh, so sensitive tissue between my legs. Stroking, rubbing and circling, making me moan even higher than before. I didn’t give a damn if the whole Parlour heard me. He was sensing, guessing, learning, observing my response, repeating what seemed to give the desired reaction. He was a quick learner indeed. A bit too quick.

“Yes,” I whimpered, twitching and lurching as his thumb circled my nub. “Every cent.”

Getting close, I forcibly removed his hand and started unbuckling his belt, switching positions so that it was my turn to have my back to the wall.

“Oh no, for twenty dollars you damn sure are gonna fuck me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” It was but a mere whisper.

He grabbed the back of my tight and hoisted me up against the wall with one hand and freed himself with the other. Clenching onto his back, I gasped as his length slid inside me, filling me up. I arched my back and pushed my hips against his, earning a low, guttural growl in return. The bed was right there but neither of us cared. I closed my legs around him. Hard.

“Move like _this_.” I was so on edge, I could barely speak.

His hips started moving in the rhythm I had commanded. Each thrust harder than the previous, wringing from me cries and gasps, bringing me closer and closer - until I came apart. This was, this was really happening. Me and Arthur Morgan. Against the wall in a hotel room in Rhodes, with our clothes lying in a pool at our ankles.

My legs and walls tightened around him and my body jerked, trembled and bucked in his arms as I reached my climax, crying out his name. When I relaxed, he slowed down, as if unsure he could take pleasure the same way. His body taut and uneven, sharp intake of breaths, I knew he was close. He _had_ to be.

“Your turn. C’mon Arthur.”

I didn’t need to tell him twice. I clung to him as he threw me down on the bed and did a few more shallow thrusts before pulling out in the nick of time, spilling himself on my tights.

“There ya go. That’s good,” I praised, stroking his back and caressing his hair as he came to rest on top of me.

We laid still for a few minutes in silence, catching our breaths before he leisurely moved to the side where we laid on our backs staring at the ceiling, neither of us quite knowing what to say. It wasn’t until now I realized I no longer had his hat on my head. I couldn’t even remember it falling off.

“<y/n> you’re… you’re something,” he started.

“I know. And so are you.”

He chuckled in response. We stayed quiet for a few more minutes, internally reliving all that had happened the last half an hour. Heat building up again, I turned towards him, looking him in the eyes for the first time since entering the room.

“Now, I know we didn’t discuss a second round but if you’re up, I’ll pay-“

“Next round’s on me.” He cut me off by pulling me close and kissing me hard. I moaned into his mouth and felt myself relaxing in his arms and giving into his touch.

“Yeah, that’s my girl,” he growled.


End file.
